


A Father's Expectations

by Em_The_Anxious_Dragon



Series: Clans of Norway [3]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Bad Parents, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Mentions of a bear trap, hinted neglect, no beta we die as warriors!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29179950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_The_Anxious_Dragon/pseuds/Em_The_Anxious_Dragon
Summary: "You or your sister are expected to continue the legacy.""By who?""By tradition."In which Ashwhisker tries to give his daughters the chance his father never let him have.
Series: Clans of Norway [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140815
Kudos: 2





	A Father's Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> The start of the Allegiances. August 17, waning gibbous moon.

The first day of apprenticeship is exciting for any young cat. The day they finally step out of their camp and into the rest of the world is an important moment. For a Clan that lives amongst steep cliffs and deadly drops, that moment absolutely cannot happen at night. That means, for Honeypaw and Lightpaw, whose apprentice ceremony happened just as the sun sunk below the ocean and shone into the CliffClan camp with burning intensity, it was their second day that would be so exciting.

The ocean glimmered in the dawn light far below the CliffClan camp. An early hunting patrol was already stalking along the Lower Beach, searching for a good spot to fish. Lemmingstar’s tail stuck out of her den. Brookspot and Firestripe argued in front of the elder’s den over who _really_ caught that hawk back in their younger days. Many cats were still asleep, however. That included many of the CliffClan apprentices.

The mossy apprentice’s den trapped the late summer heat. Otterpaw slept with his legs dangling in the air, kicking softly. His brother Fowlpaw carefully groomed his sprained paw, yawning. Mistpaw and Briarpaw had the prime nest spots near the entrance where they could sleep with the den’s warmth and catch the cool camp breeze. Honeypaw and Lightpaw, meanwhile, were stuck in the humid back of the den.

Honeypaw could feel her fluffy golden fur melting off of her. She stretched out in the large nest, trying to cool down, but nothing worked. How was Lightpaw still asleep? Her slender sister seemed perfectly at ease in her dreams, like she was still curled up beside Goldenshade, their mother. Even though her mentor hadn’t shown up yet, maybe Honeypaw could head out and stretch? She wasn’t a kit anymore. She didn’t have to check in with anyone to wander around camp. In fact, for the first time, she could finally go to the one spot in camp she never could.

Honeypaw carefully stood, her fur matted and fluffed in odd places. She carefully stepped around Otterpaw and slipped between Mistpaw and Briarpaw (the latter of the two was snoring to wake StarClan). She sighed gleefully as the cool morning breeze ruffled her fur. She turned towards the glimmering opening of the cave. She ran across camp, jumping over the fresh-kill pile. She skidded to a stop by a boulder marking the cave’s sudden drop. Her mother was always afraid she would fall from here, but she was an apprentice now. She could be careful. Honeypaw breathed deep. The salty sea filled her paws with energy. She looked off the edge. The camp was so high up! The hunting patrol looked like ants from there. The sand looked harsh with all the crumbling logs and human junk. Maybe Harriershade could take her down there!

“I did the same thing when I was an apprentice,” someone purred behind her. Honeypaw turned around. Sleettuft strolled towards her, blinking sleep from his green eyes. The gray tom seemed to blend into the rock. 

“Hello, Grandfather!” Honeypaw chirped. “What do you mean?”

“The first thing I wanted to do was look over the edge,” Sleettuft purred, sitting beside the young molly. He licked her ear as a gentle hello. “I think it’s an unspoken rite of passage.”

“Do you think I can learn how to climb the cliff today?” Honeypaw asked.

“You’re far too young to try that,” Sleettuft warned. “You’ll likely start simple.”

“Seeing the territory,” Honeypaw hummed. “I’ve heard so much about it.” Honeypaw dangled her front paws off the edge, the rough stone scratching her soft pads.

“Every place has a history to it,” Sleettuft mused. “There’s a story in each cave and cranny. The rocks below us have much to say. As a story-keeper, it’s my job to remember those histories for future generations. I hope you get to learn everything about our clan.”

“Well, probably not as much as you,” Honeypaw chuckled. “I’m just a warrior apprentice.”

“I was surprised when Lemmingstar declared you and your sisters warrior apprentices,” Sleettuft hummed, laying beside his granddaughter. “Especially you, Honeypaw.”

“My mother was surprised, too,” Honeypaw admitted with an awkward lick of her chest. “She thought I would be a counselor.”

“Thank StarClan you weren’t,” Sleettuft huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What’s wrong with being a counselor?” Honeypaw asked, staring at Sleettuft.

“Nothing, of course,” Sleettuft stammered. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was insulting our clanmates. I value our counselors. Without them, I would not have gotten over the loss of your grandmother, Stonefeather.” He gently batted at Honeypaw’s tufted ears. “She had the same sort of fluffy ears. What I meant was, you’re destined for a life greater than listening to the complaints of others.”

“I’m excited to be a warrior!” Honeypaw chirped. “Without our warriors, we’d never survive!”

“Sometimes, I feel like our clan pushes too many of our young cats into warrior training and few into story-keeper training,” Sleettuft muttered. “From the early days of story-keepers, our family has upheld the tradition. A cat from the first litter of our ancestors becomes a story-keeper, and a cat from their first litter becomes a story-keeper, and so the path continues through the generations. I was the only kit of my mother’s litter, making me a story-keeper. Your father’s littermates died before they became apprentices, making him a story-keeper. You or your sister are expected to continue the legacy.”

“By who?” Honeypaw asked.

“By tradition,” Sleettuft declared.

“It’s too late now,” Honeypaw sighed, tucking her paws underneath her. “I set my path on becoming a warrior.”

“The early training of warriors and story-keepers is similar,” Sleettuft explained. “You have time to change your mind. I know Beaverstone wants an apprentice. He would be more than happy to mentor you. Being a story-keeper gives you access to the history of our ancestors and our code in a way unseen by anyone else.”

“I don’t even know what it’s like to be a warrior yet,” Honeypaw huffed, standing. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“You’re a sensible young cat,” Sleettuft purred. “I trust you.”

While the two cats basked in the morning glory of the ocean, Fidgetflower trotted out of the warrior’s den with more energy than any cat should have in the morning. At least Harriershade, who trailed behind him, seemed properly calm.

“A father and a mentor on the same night!” Fidgetflower laughed, strolling around the camp. “What a time to be alive!”

“I don’t know if Lemmingstar made the right call making you a mentor right now,” Harriershade sighed. “Shouldn’t you be spending time with your mate?”

“I’ve got my day carefully planned out,” Fidgetflower declared, dramatically waving his paw in front of him like he was scanning the horizon. “You and I will take our new apprentices to see the whole territory today. If we see any prey, we’ll stop and do some on the spot teaching. That will wear them out enough that by the time we get back, I can spend the rest of the day with Avocetcloud and my kits! CliffClan strategy for the win!”

“I think I see Honeypaw over there,” Harriershade, nodding to the cave opening. “Grab Lightpaw and we’ll meet you outside.” Fidgetflower charged towards the apprentice’s den, tail high.

“Good morning, future warriors!” Fidgetflower cheered, marching into the den. All the apprentices groaned. Mistpaw and Briarpaw covered their faces. Otterpaw tossed a bit of moss at Fidgetflower’s nose. “It’s a new day, Lightpaw! Let’s meet the world!”

“We were on patrol late last night, Fidgetflower,” Mistpaw groaned. “Can’t we sleep until our mentors come?”

“Sleettuft promised to teach me the old techniques of climbing Bouldershake today,” Otterpaw huffed. “I’m not leaving until he says it's time to learn.” Lightpaw, meanwhile, scrambled out of her nest like a frightened bird.

“I’m awake!” she gasped, jumping over her sister’s empty nest.

“It’s time to see the territory!” Fidgetflower declared. He strolled out of the den. A steep slope climbed up from the left of the den, leading higher up the cliff yet further from the shore. Fidgetflower waved his apprentice along and climbed out of camp. Lightpaw hurried into camp, but paused at the base of the slope. It seemed steeper than usual. Excitement built in her chest. She couldn’t disappoint Fidgetflower by being nervous about the camp exit! She dug her claws against the rocky slope and pulled herself up. Her back feet stumbled, but she continued up

At the same time, Harriershade padded up to Sleettuft and Honypaw just as they finished their conversation.

“Hey, Honeypaw!” Harriershade chirped. “Sorry we couldn’t take you out yesterday. Are you ready to go?"

“Yes, ma’am,” Honeypaw said with a smile.

“Just Harriershade, please,” Harriershade laughed awkwardly. “I was in your paws a moon ago. Calling me ma’am is just strange.” She flicked her tail and jerked her head towards the sloped entrance.

“Bye, Grandfather!” Honeypaw called, racing after her mentor. Sleettuft smiled and waved his tail goodbye with closed eyes. He wrapped his tail over his front paws to avoid anyone noticing his unsheathed claws.

Harriershade and Honeypaw climbed up the slope in single file. Honeypaw had less trouble than her sister in scaling the path. Her pupils constricted as the light from the end of the tunnel slope blinded her. She stepped onto something soft. She stepped back and let her eyes adjust to the bright light. Grass! The camp was all rock and dirt, Honeypaw had never felt grass before!

“Honeypaw, it’s so soft!” Lightpaw giggled. She rolled in the nearby grass, letting the sun soak through her pelt. Fidgetflower smiled and covered his mouth with his tail as he laughed at his apprentice. 

The main CliffClan entrance, a hole in the ground to the rest of the world, opened onto the rocky hills of the territory. Cliffs and hills stretched and rolled around the clan cats. A few trees (trees! Actual trees!) grew on the tops of the cliffs, buffeted by the wind and filled with brilliant green leaves. A hundred smells invaded the apprentices’ noses.

“There’s so much to learn,” Fidgetflower declared. “CliffClan territory is covered in caves and tunnels, just like our camp! Grass and trees take some getting used to.”

“The other clans don’t understand our love of the dark,” Harriershade added. “They call us bat-brains.”

“But unlike them, there’s always a new, rarely explored tunnel or cave to hunt in,” Fidgetflower said. “We have a lot of places to see today. Our goal is to see the borders with SealClan and PuffinClan and the major landmarks of the territory. Otterpaw gave me the best idea on where to start, and it’s close by.” Fidgetflower flicked his tail and trotted down the hill. The new apprentices hurried after him, with Harriershade trailing behind them.

At the bottom of the hill, the apprentices could finally see the bases of some of the massive cliffs scattering the area. Some were more like steep slopes than flat cliff-faces, but one really grabbed Lightpaw’s attention. Boulders covered the side of the cliff. Big rocks, little rocks, cat sized rocks, the whole thing looked like a disaster waiting to happen. The rocks climbed all the way to the top of the cliff. Many had fallen from the slope and littered the grass. Was Lightpaw expected to climb that?

“This is Bouldershake,” Fidgetflower explained. “You see the top of the hill? There’s a Thunderpath up there. Humans in giant yellow monsters approach the edge of the cliff and dump huge rocks over the side! The whole thing is unstable and prone to collapse. You aren’t going near that for a while.”

“Once you learn how to climb and take care around rocks,” Harriershade said, “you’ll be able to hunt here. A few snakes like to nest here, but there’s plenty of good prey as well.”

“You are absolutely never allowed to climb up Bouldershake,” Fidgetflower huffed. “Only our most skilled climbers can attempt it.”

“I wouldn’t want to climb that,” Lightpaw grunted, sneering at the rocks.

“Why do they drop all these rocks here?” Honeypaw asked.

“Humans are weird,” Harriershade said. “The hollow roofed cave is the next closest thing. This way.”

As Harriershade took the lead, the rest of the clan was finally starting their day. Rollerfall and Lynxpaw started a careful descent down the steep cliff leading to the Lower Beach. Lemmingstar and Rippedpool chatted with the elders. And Ashwhisker?

Ashwhisker was a mouse-length from his latest panic attack.

“It may be summer,” Hailbranch grunted, carefully laying fresh cobweb in a neat pile in the holy den, “but that doesn’t mean I can give you juniper berries every time you panic. Do you want leaf love? This is how you get leaf love.”

“My kits left camp for the first time and Goldenshade joined a border patrol, I really just need someone to talk to,” Ashwhisker stammered. Despite his large size, Hailbranch made him look tiny by comparison. She was the biggest molly he knew. It didn’t help that he always seemed to shrink around more stubborn cats. The holy den was sloped just enough that Hailbranch was taller than she actually was, too, as she lined up herbs on the small shelves carved into the rock. “Is Martenpaw around?”

“She’s grooming the elders,” Hailbranch huffed, dragging fresh moss over to the patient nests. “I don’t want you distracting her. She’s not even your daughter.”

“Goldenshade and I raised her, she may as well be,” Ashwhisker snapped, tail thrashing. “Oh StarClan. I thought it would be simple, seeing Lightpaw and Honeypaw be apprenticed. I got through Martenpaw’s apprenticeship last moon well enough. Why am I so panicked now?”

“I’m a healer, not a counselor,” Hailbranch muttered, glaring at Ashwhisker. “Unless you’re bleeding, go bother someone else.” Ashwhisker grimaced, and hurried out of the holy den. His kits were seeing the territory, what if he ‘casually’ bumped into them during a patrol? He was an adult and could have just left on his own accord, but with a patrol, he’d have a reason to rest his anxiety upon.

“Ah, Ashwhisker!” The young father flinched as Sleettuft trotted towards him. Otterpaw and Grebeshine trailed behind him. Ashwhisker forced a polite smile. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Ashwhisker asked.

“Our hunting patrol to Bouldershake!” Otterpaw huffed. “We planned it yesterday. We’re gonna hunt and share stories about the place so I can learn all about it! Don’t you remember?”

“Otterpaw, be respectful,” Grebeshine sighed.

“Mother,” Otterpaw groaned, glaring up at the tortoiseshell.

“Maybe Quailflight taught you a few stories of the place even I don’t know!” Sleettuft chuckled.

“Maybe,” Ashwhisker repeated.

“Did you know Otterpaw here wants to specialize in landmark history?” Sleettuft added, running a tail down the apprentice’s back. “He loves our territory. He’s a true follower of history. Reminds me of you in a few ways.”

“Well, I was more into family lines than trees and rocks,” Ashwhisker chuckled.

“You likely know all those who were taken to StarClan by Bouldershake,” Sleettuft assured him. “You’ll have much to tell him. Let’s get going.” Sleettuft trotted up the slope. Ashwhisker stayed in the back. He had an idea what made Honeypaw and Lightpaw’s apprenticeship so much scarier than Martenpaw’s. It was all about family.

In the territory proper, Fidgetflower, Honeypaw, Lightpaw, and Harriershade padded along the bottom ridge of one of the lower cliffs. A cave yawned open to their right, welcoming the patrol inside.

“This is the hollow-roofed cave,” Fidgetflower explained, slipping inside. Honeypaw and Lightpaw hovered outside. The dirt roof of the cave was littered with tiny holes. Beams of light shot through, illuminating the rocky floor. Where the sun hit, patches of grass and herbs grew, reaching for the light. 

“I don’t trust a cave with a dirt roof,” Lightpaw huffed, glancing up.

“Our clan’s been in here for generations,” Fidgetflower said. “It’s perfectly safe! Gorgeous, isn’t it? It’s a great spot to sunbathe. It’s one of the best caves in the territory, and it leads towards another important place!”

“Over here,” Harriershade called. She stood at the side of the cave, where moss collasped into a tunnel entrance. Lightpaw stalked forward, still looking at the roof. “Follow me through, and stay close. If you can’t see me anymore, stay where you are and call for me. Fidgetflower and I will find you.” Harriershade ducked and slipped into the tunnel. Honeypaw stayed close behind her mentor, her nose brushing against Harriershade’s tail. Lightpaw followed, examining the rocky walls of the tunnel as Fidgetflower took the rear. 

The light began to fade. The apprentices could barely see their clanmates in the dark. Their whiskers brushed against the tunnel walls. Occasionally, they’d feel an opening, branching off to another part of the tunnel, but they stayed behind Harriershade.

“There are tunnels throughout CliffClan,” Harriershade explained. “They connect to various caves both above and below ground. It’s very easy to get lost in them without training. We can appear behind enemies like the wind and vanish like shadows.”

“I feel like a rabbit,” Honeypaw giggled. Light glimmered in front of them, turning Harriershade into a shadow. Honeypaw smelled fresh plants, like the chamomile her father often had to calm his anxiety.

“Martenpaw told me about this place!” Honeypaw gasped. “Is this the Underground Forest?” The patrol stepped into the light. Tall walls of dirt trapped them in a deep hole. Mushrooms covered the ground like tan spots on the pelt of a sleeping green cat. Chamomile grew in thick patches along the edges while other plants that the apprentices didn’t recognize danced among the mushrooms. More tunnels poked out from behind moss and vines.

“Hailbranch and Martenpaw use this place to grow herbs,” Fidgetflower explained. “We can sometimes find shrews and voles here.”

“Like right there!” Harriershade whispered. She pointed her tail to the center of the forest. A vole nibbled on a mushroom, unaware of the cats. “What do you think, Fidgetflower? Which of them should go for it?”

“Honeypaw identified the location,” Fidgetflower hummed, “so Lightpaw can try and catch the vole.” Fidgetflower paced behind his apprentice, pawsteps light. “Listen closely. This is a lot like when you used to sneak up on your mother and pounce on her tail. You want to stay low to the ground. Gather all your weight into your haunches.” Lightpaw got low to the ground, muscles groaning from the unusual pose. She tried to remember how her father looked when he mimicked hunting—straight and squat. His tail was straight too, wasn’t it? Lightpaw lifted her tail out of the foliage. “Wow, you lifted your tail before I said anything! Good job!”

“Keep your pawsteps light and move towards it,” Harriershade whispered. Lightpaw took a few lanky steps forward. Her youthful joints ached from the pose, but she kept still.

“Smaller steps,” Fidgetflower added. “The patient hunter gets the mouse. When you think you’re close enough, pounce and bite into the vole’s neck, hard. Give it a swift death.” Lightpaw took one step forward. She launched at the vole with a yowl of joy. The vole barely had time to react. It tried to bolt, but Lightpaw had its haunches in her claws. She bit into the vole’s neck and felt her first taste of living, fresh blood.

“That was amazing!” Honeypaw squealed, racing towards her sister.

“Don’t yowl when you pounce,” Fidgetflower sighed, joining his apprentice. “You’ll spook your prey and give it a chance to run. It was a great first catch, though! You have a lot of natural talent! Your technique will be nice and smooth in a moon!”

“Thank you, Fidgetflower!” Lightpaw chirped, poking at the dead vole. Maybe she didn’t like climbing, but maybe she could become the best hunter in the clan, like her father!

“Why don’t you carry that out of here?” Harriershade suggested. “The tunnel in front of us should lead close to the PuffinClan border. Ready to see your first enemy warrior?”

Aboveground, Sleettuft and his little patrol approached Bouldershake. Ashwhisker tasted the air. His kits had already been there. Grebeshine padded to the side and started sniffing for prey. Sleettuft hopped on one of the rocks that had fallen from Bouldershake years ago, now covered in moss and stuck to the ground.

“I say we start with the most popular story of Bouldershake,” he sighed at Otterpaw sat below him. “The last time Bouldershake collapsed. It was a tragedy. A hunting patrol, just like ours, was sniffing around the boulders when humans came in their giant monsters and dumped their rocks over the cliffside. Something about that day disrupted the rocks so badly, the entire slope began to collapse and roll towards the hunting patrol. Young Albatrossfoot earned his warrior name that day by saving the older Mallardeye from a stampeding rock. Two cats lost their lives. Ashwhisker, do you remember who?”

“Brineheart and Cavetail,” Ashwhisker sighed, carefully hopping onto one of the lower rocks. Couldn’t his father tell the story himself and let his son hunt? He needed to focus.

“Do you know who the last cat to be injured by Bouldershake is, Otterpaw?” Sleettuft asked.

“Firestripe,” the apprentice declared. “A rock broke his paw. He always complains about it when it gets cold. He still walks with a limp.”

“Very good!” Sleettuft purred.

Ashwhisker sniffed in one of the cracks in the rocks. He could smell a mouse hiding somewhere below. He just had to safely scare it out.

“Grebeshine, can you go over there and help me scare out this mouse?” Ashwhisker asked, pointing to the other side of Bouldershake. “If you gently shift one of the rocks, it should scurry out.”

“Ah, this is an advanced hunting technique, used only at Bouldershake,” Sleettuft noted, nodding towards Ashwhisker. “It requires one hunter to scare out the prey by disturbing the lower rocks while another is ready to run after whatever scurries out. This is usually taught to warriors. Ashwhisker, how do you know this move?” Ashwhisker nearly slipped off the boulder. His father could never find out how he knew. He needed a lie, and fast.

“I’m well versed in family legacy, as you know,” Ashwhisker explained, licking his paw to avoid nervous stammering. “It’s actually connected to Otterpaw’s family! Walrusstone, the father of Grebeshine’s father, was best known for perfecting this technique. I thought it was interesting, so I asked Charpatch to help me learn it!” Ashwhisker wasn’t lying about Otterpaw’s ancestor, but he was lying about who taught him the technique.

“I was right,” Sleettuft chuckled. “You do know a few things about Bouldershake that I don’t know!”

“Sleettuft, I want to learn this,” Otterpaw huffed, standing. “If it’s special to this place, I should know about it!”

“You can help me scare this mouse out if you want,” Ashwhisker added.

“Go ahead,” Sleettuft said with a nod. Otterpaw trotted to the other side of Bouldershake. He carefully crawled onto the lowest rock. Grebeshine stood below him.

“What we want to do is move a rock just enough that the mouse thinks that Bouldershake is collapsing,” Ashwhisker explained, “but not enough to actually collapse Bouldershake. What you need to do first is test the rocks. If you can move a rock with a soft push of your paw, that means it doesn’t hold any weight. Moving it won’t hurt anything. Go ahead and find a rock.” Otterpaw batted softly at the rocks close to him. Most were sturdy and didn’t move. The fifth rock he checked shifted slightly.

“What do I do now?” Otterpaw whispered.

“When I give the signal, I want you to shove the rock off,” Ashwhisker said. He hopped to the next level of Bouldershake. The mouse was right below him. It could bolt from any of the tiny cracks. He had to be prepared. “Grebeshine, we’ll have a better chance of catching it if you’re ready for it too.”

“Alright,” Grebeshine sighed, nodding. Ashwhisker scratched his claws on the rock. He crouched slightly, ears shifting with each scurry under his paws.

“Now!” Ashwhisker yowled. Otterpaw swung at the rock and shoved hard. The rock tumbled down, rolling across the grass. A brown mouse ran from the hole below. Ashwhisker pounced, his shadow consuming the mouse. His paws smashed the mouse to the ground and his fangs quickly ended its life.

“That’s how we do it in CliffClan!” Otterpaw cheered.

“Good catch,” Grebeshine said.

“It’s a tricky technique,” Sleettuft sighed, “one that must be remembered so that the warriors of the future can best hunt for their clan. It is our job to record these things for them.” Ashwhisker sheathed his claws. Otterpaw and Grebeshine didn’t notice, but he could always tell what Sleettuft truly meant. He turned away from his father and dug a small hole to bury the mouse.

“How did Walrusstone learn how to do that?” Otterpaw asked.

“Go ahead and tell him the story, son,” Sleettuft said with a smile. Ashwhisker’s pelt burned with a strange embarrassment.

“Alright,” Ashwhisker sighed, laying beside his catch. Otterpaw settled by Sleettuft’s boulder.

While Ashwhisker started his story, his children were just emerging from the ground. The apprentices climbed out from under what looked like a badger burrow from the surface, a tiny cave below a tiny hill. Gentle hills replaced the cliffs, with a few trees speckling the landscape. 

“Woah,” Honeypaw gasped, scrunching up her nose. “I smell other cats! They don’t smell like CliffClan, though. They smell like wind and grass.”

“That’s PuffinClan,” Harriershade explained. “We’re right by the border. It’s tough to tell where it is by sight, but you can smell it. It’s our job as warriors to lead border patrols and refresh the scent of CliffClan. We don’t want any PuffinClan cats on our territory. Counselors join us too, ready to talk peace should any issues come up. Story-Keepers never join border patrols, but unlike counselors, they help with hunting patrols.”

“Wouldn’t it be tough to tell where the border is if the scents are weak?” Honeypaw asked. “I have no idea where PuffinClan’s border begins.”

“Do you see that pile of rocks?” Harriershade pointed out. A few tail-lengths away, a pile of pebbles sat half buried in the grass. “We sometimes build those to mark the border. It tends to shift a lot, though. PuffinClan likes to pretend those rocks don’t exist during their border patrols.”

“Speaking of border patrols,” Fidgetflower chuckled. He waved a paw to the left. A group of CliffClan cats strolled along the border, glancing between CliffClan and PuffinClan. Charpatch led the patrol, sniffing the border. Goldenshade and Gooseleg followed her, marking the border as they went.

“Lightpaw, look, it’s Mom!” Honeypaw chirped. “Hi!” Goldenshade looked up from her conversation with Gooseleg. She smiled and waved her tail. “Mom, Lightpaw caught a vole!”

“Wonderful!” Goldenshade purred.

“Let’s leave them be,” Fidgetflower advised, stroking his tail down Honeypaw’s shoulder. “We’re heading for the SealClan border now.” The mentors took the lead, leaving light paths through the grass. Hey trailed alongside a small stream, where a few fish from the ocean swam deeper inland.

“So we can join Mom on border patrols, and Dad on hunting patrols,” Lightpaw hummed, walking alongside her sister as the vole in her mouth muffled her words. “When can we spend time with Martenpaw?”

“Don’t healers need help sometimes gathering plants?” Honeypaw chirped. “We can go with her on herb collecting patrols! Want me to carry the vole for a bit? You look tired.” The sisters carefully passed the vole between their mouths.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Lightpaw sighed.

“What are you talking about?” Honeypaw huffed with a muffled voice. “You caught this on your first try!”

“I pay attention to Dad,” Lightpaw chuckled awkwardly. “I just don’t want to disappoint him. He looked so excited when I told him I wanted to be a warrior. I’m glad I look more like Mom though. I don’t want everyone to think I’m going to be some hunting prodigy. I want to be really good, and I’m gonna work to be the clan’s best hunter, but I don’t want everyone to be let down if this was just a lucky catch.” The scents began to shift as the cliffs began to grow again. Where there was once open fields and sweet smelling plants were now the heavy smells of fish and running water.

Up ahead was a collection of streams, crossing and colliding with one another in a babbling mess of big and small brooks. The grass thinned, slowly replaced with soft sand and tiny pebbles. Beyond the stream, the world looked wet. Streams split the territory into large islands of rock and sand and a few choice plants and trees. Most of the territory looked rather dull.

“We can go as far as this stream,” Fidgetflower explained, sticking a paw into the water. “SealClan has the elder’s share of territory right now, even though we both use the streams to fish.”

“Don’t worry though,” Harriershade chuckled, flexing her claws. “Last Gathering, Lemmingstar demanded the stretch of land going to the next stream from Brinestar. I doubt SealClan will give it up without a fight.” Lightpaw puffed out her chest. She was more than ready to defend her clan! Honeypaw set the vole down.

“Doesn’t the code say to respect borders?” Honeypaw asked.

“Part of clan life is moving the borders as the moons pass,” Harriershade declared. “Salmon love to move through the streams during the summer, meaning we get more food sources to feed our clanmates. SealClan is being greedy right now, trying to claim all the streams for themselves just because they have a bigger focus on the sea.”

“SealClan is a bit angry with us right now, so let’s head out before a patrol comes,” Fidgetflower said. “We still have to see the Lower Beach!”

Back at Bouldershake, it took Ashwhisker far too long to tell the story of Walrusstone. Otterpaw kept interrupting with questions about details Ashwhisker found inane, but somehow fascinated Sleettuft and Otterpaw. He never understood the appeal of remembering the types of tabbies throughout clan history. It was only when Grebeshine took over with stories of code-breaking investigations that Ashwhisker could finally go back to hunting. He’d just stalk around the plains and see if there were any rabbits around. A good run could sap some of his energy.

“When I was just a kit,” Grebeshine said as Ashwhisker stalked around Bouldershake, “the now deceased seer, Tealdusk, was accused of a forbidden relationship with the counselor Sedgemask after the counselor was killed here. It was said that the two would have their romantic meetings at the top of the cliff.”

“Was Tealdusk accused of murder?” Otterpaw asked.

“Oh no,” Sleettuft grunted. “The death was seen by a patrol. A cruel human kicked her off the cliff.” Ashwhisker flinched. How did his fellow story-keepers talk about the death of a clanmate so casually? He pressed against the side of the cliff and breathed deep. He could enjoy hunting and go back to camp to hear how his kits’ first day out went. He doubted his father would get anything done. A breeze whisked past his whiskers. It was a short little wind that felt out of place amongst the cliffs. Ashwhisker sniffed around. There was a cat-sized rock leaning by the cliff. He could see a thin gap between the rock and the cliff. There was a hole in the cliff!

Ashwhisker dug at the dirt around the opening. It was soft and crumbled under his claws. He kept digging until he had an opening the size of his shoulders. It would be a tight fit, but he could get through. He may have discovered where the prey around Bouldershake truly hid! He pulled his front paws through and squeezed through the gap. He kicked his back legs to get over the rock. He tumbled onto his face when his back legs fell out of his little hole.

Hidden by Bouldershake was a small dirt cave. Moss and mushrooms sprouted out through the darkness. The old opening to the cave must have been covered when Bouldershake was formed, as little beams of light poked through the thick wall of mossy boulders. The air was thick with the smell of mice and little underground creatures. Ashwhisker held back a cheer. He could catch enough prey to feed the elders and all the apprentices! He had to get to work.

For the mice, it was a horror story unfolding. A giant gray cat snatching them up one by one with nowhere to run? Terrifying. By the time he had cleared the place out, he had three mice and two shrews. He probably should have spared some catches, but he got a bit excited.

“Thank you, StarClan!” he whispered. He set the fresh-kill in a pile and curled in the center of the cave, paws tucked under him. “I hope you’re listening, Mom. This was all I ever wanted. I just wanted to hunt and protect my clan. I didn’t want the complicated life of a story-keeper. I know story-keepers are important, but it's not what I want. I wish Sleettuft understood.”

“He must have wandered further off to hunt,” Grebeshine sighed from outside. Her voice was muffled inside the cave, but it leaked through the cracks in the boilers. Ashwhisker looked up. Were they talking about him? He didn’t tell anyone where he was going. They may have been worried about him.

“At least now I can ask you both something,” Sleettuft sighed. Ashwhisker stood and stalked towards the rocks. “It’s about the future of story-keepers in the clan.” Though Ashwhisler could not see it, Grebeshine and Otterpaw laid below Sleettuft’s boulder, gently grooming themselves.

“I know there aren’t a lot of us, but isn’t that just a phase?” Otterpaw huffed, rolling his eyes. “Sometimes there are a lot of cats in a role, sometimes there’s only one. Who knows, Avocetcloud’s kits may want to be story-keepers. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“My family has kept the strength of the story-keepers through the generations,” Sleettuft explained. “We keep CliffClan alive through our firstborns. Honeypaw or Lightpaw must continue that tradition.”

“You can’t force them out of warrior training,” Grebeshine grunted, grooming her ears.

“We only need one to become a story-keeper,” Sleettuft muttered, “though I’d prefer if they both did so. I need your help to convince them to switch their training.”

“Sleettuft, CliffClan won’t lose story-keepers just because one cat doesn’t want to join us,” Grebeshine sighed, standing.

“Can’t you feel it in the air?” Sleettuft asked, standing as well. “Every generation, more cats wish to become warriors and prove themselves worthy of StarClan. We lose more and more story-keepers. What happens when the clan decides they don’t need us, or they only need one cat at a time to be a story-keeper? StarClan has blessed us with large memories, but we cannot remember everything about everything. We would go mad.”

“Lemmingstar wouldn’t do that,” Otterpaw scoffed.

“It wouldn’t happen this generation,” Sleettuft sighed, shaking his head, “but your child could be burdened with remembering the entirety of clan history, investigating every petty fight, and proving the guilt and innocence of every code-breaker. It’s too much for one cat to bear. Should that cat die before they take an apprentice? CliffClan history would be gone.” Otterpaw’s ears flattened. Sleettuft leaned down so his muzzle gently touched Otterpaw’s head. “It’s okay, Otterpaw. My family is here to prevent that. My son is blind to how important standing up for the story-keepers can be. My grandkits need to learn.”

“It seems a little far-fetched,” Grebeshine muttered, tail sagging.

“Do you want your hard work to go to waste?” Sleettuft asked, sneering for a moment.. “No one can match how fiercely you defend a clanmate in a trial. I want those skills to be passed on. When I die, Honeypaw and Lightpaw will encourage future generations to swell our ranks and keep our memory alive. We will live forever in the hearts of our descendants.” Otterpaw watched it all with the passion of a seer in the heat of a vision. He nodded along to all of Sleettuft’s words. Grebeshine stared at the sky.

“What would you have us do?” Grebeshine asked.

“Befriend Honeypaw and Lightpaw,” Sleettuft ordered. “Encourage them. Show them how great it is to be a story-keeper. Say nothing to Ashwhisker, and especially his mate.”

“Yes, sir,” Otterpaw said with a proud nod.

Inside the cave, Ashwhisker stumbled back, heart racing. His kits wanted to be warriors, and Sleettuft wanted to control their lives. How delusional was he? Story-keepers wouldn’t ‘die off’, how could Grebeshine listen to him? Couldn’t she see he was manipulating her son as well as he manipulated—oh StarClan, he was going to be sick. He clawed at the ground, pacing about and trying to breathe. What did Goldenshade always tell him? Deep breathing, grounded steps. He pushed his paw into the dirt, making sure he felt it between his pads before he took another step. He couldn’t let this happen, but he could never do anything about it. It wasn’t against the code. He couldn’t anger his father. He needed to talk to his mate. He needed to get out of that cave!

Ashwhisker grabbed his fresh-kill and tossed them out of the hole. He crawled out of the cave as silently as he could. He rubbed against the rock to get the cave’s scent of him. Hoping he was calm enough, he grabbed his prey (nearly dropping them all) and padded around Bouldershake. Otterpaw and Grebeshine were still chatting with Sleettuft. Otterpaw noticed Ashwhisker first.

“Woah!” he gasped, standing. “Where’d you find all that?”

“I uncovered a mouse nest,” Ashwhisker lied, dropping all the prey.

“You aren’t called Ashwhisker for nothing,” Grebeshine chuckled. “Great job. I think we’ve shared plenty of stories with Otterpaw, don’t you think?”

“We can head home,” Sleettutft said. “Let’s not make Ashwhisker carry all that.” He picked up the shrews. Otterpaw and Grebeshine grabbed the mice while Ashwhisker unburied his first catch. The group marched back towards camp.

Around that time, Harriershade, Honeypaw, Lightpaw, and Fidgetflower were just arriving at the Lower Beach. The waves lapped against the sand, carrying away shards of wood and human junk. Lightpaw, carrying her vole, marched over to the shore. The water tickled her paws. She jumped back, surprised at the cold.

“This is the end of our tour,” Fidgetflower yawned. “CliffClan’s camp is right above us. Eventually, you’ll learn how to climb up the cliffside and enter camp that way, but it's far too dangerous right now. The Lower Beach can give you splinters if you step on something so watch where you put your paws.”

“I didn’t know the territory was so big,” Honeypaw groaned, shaking out her paws. “Am I expected to walk that every day?”

“You’ll get stronger with more training,” Harriershade assured her. “I think you deserve a break, though. This afternoon, Honeypaw, I want to teach you how to gather moss. It’s a very important duty for a young apprentice.”

“First one back to camp gets to eat first!” Fidgetflower challenged. A burst of energy filled Lightpaw’s feet. She zoomed past her sister and booked it up the steep slope around the cliff. She wanted to share her first catch with her family. Honeypaw didn’t buy into the challenge and simply padded beside her mentor, shaking her feet out every few tail-lengths.

Unsurprisingly, Lightpaw fell into camp first. Literally. Her feet caught under her as she headed down the tunnel and she slid into camp. She scrambled up, praying to StarClan no one noticed. A thunderous laughter proved her wrong. Firestripe laid outside the elder’s den, laughing his tail off. Heat filled Lightpaw’s cheeks. She marched towards the fresh-kill pile, dropped her vole, and plopped beside the pile in a tired heap. Timing proved to be Lightpaw’s friend as instead of her mentor and sibling strolling into camp, Ashwhisker and his patrol entered with their parade of mice and shrews.

“Dad!” Lightpaw gasped, jumping to her paws with the easily re-energized strength of young cats. Ashwhisker’s ears perked. The patrol strolled to the fresh-kill pile and dropped their prey off. “Dad, you won’t believe it. I caught a vole on my first try!”

“Lightpaw, really?” Ashwhisker gasped, clawing the vole out of the pile. “That’s amazing, Lightpaw! I’m so proud of you!” Ashwhisker licked his daughter’s ear and gently nuzzled her. Lightpaw purred and nuzzled her father back. Sleettuft watched them with a soft smile. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’ll be here soon,” Lightpaw said. “I beat her here.” With perfect timing, Harriershade, Honeypaw, and Fidgetflower entered the camp. At the same time, Lemmingstar padded out of her den just above the rest of the camp.

“May all cats old enough to climb the cliffs gather below me,” Lemmingstar called. Fidgetflower gasped. It was his kit’s birth ceremony! He raced through the camp as his clanmates padded out of their dens. Brownleap stumbled past the vines covering the nursery, her belly just showing the signs of her pregnancy.

“Is she in there?” Fidgetflower asked, slowing down but not stopping.

“She’s just finishing nursing the kits,” Brownleap explained. Fidgetflower charged inside. His beautiful mate laid in a nest by the entrance, one of her floppy ears flipped inside out. Avocetcloud carefully poked at the three tiny kits squirming by her belly, desperately latching onto her for another meal. The white kit was the most resistant, squealing each time her mother moved her. 

“Come on, I need to go out!” Avocetcloud groaned. She poked at the white kit again, almost shoving it out of the nest.

“Let me help!” Fidgetflower chuckled. He carefully picked the white kit and the light gold kitt up by their tiny scruffs. Avocetcloud sighed and grabbed the calico kit. Fidgetflower rubbed his tail over her pelt. Avocetcloud smiled and relaxed. The two mates trotted into the camp with their gorgeous children.

Honeypaw and Lightpaw settled beside their father. Honeypaw looked half-asleep, leaning against Ashwhisker. Ashwhisker licked her forehead. Despite her exhaustion, Honeypaw looked so happy! It was a stark difference from Ashwhisker’s first day. Rollerfall and Lynxpaw sat below Lemmingstar’s den. Hailbranch and Martenpaw padded out of the holy den. Martenpaw had a piece of moss stuck in her dark brown fur.

“Martenpaw, come sit by us!” Lightpaw called. Martenpaw smiled and hurried to her adopted family.

“Before we begin the ceremony,” Lemmingstar explained, flicking her ginger speckled tail, “I do need to warn CliffClan of something the early morning hunting patrol reported. While hunting along the Lower Beach, they discovered a silver jaw that was not there yesterday.”

“What’s a silver jaw?” Lightpaw whispered.

“A shiny human thing,” Ashwhisker mumbled. “If you step in it, it will snap shut and eat your leg. In ElkClan, there’s a warrior named Partridgeleg who lost her leg to a silver jaw.”

“The patrol fed the silver jaw a stick and dragged it into the ocean,” Lemmingstar reported. “However, the presence of the silver jaw is concerning. It means humans are hunting in our territory. Apprentices, if you see a silver jaw, do not approach it. Tell your mentors and let them handle it. Watch where you step.” She smiled and glanced to the nursery, where Fidgetflower and Avocetcloud sat with their kits. “Now onto happier news. The life of a warrior is a hard and dangerous one. Yet today, CliffClan honors new life brought into this world by Avocetcloud and Fidgetflower. Three kits have joined our clan and expanded our ranks. Their names are Pochardkit, Perchkit, and Milkkit. May StarClan watch over them.”

“Pochardkit, Perchkit, Milkkit!” Fidgetflower cheered. The clan picked up his cry, repeating the names of his newborn kits. “Avocetcloud, I love those names! I wouldn’t have picked anything else!” He nuzzled the white kit and the light gold kit, now Milkkit and Perchkit. He picked them up and trotted them back into the nursery. He failed to notice the disappointed look on Avocetcloud’s face as she stared at Pochardkit, squirming at her paws.

As the clan began to quiet down and return to their tasks, Lightpaw scooped up the vol she caught and passed it to Martenpaw.

“Healers eat before normal apprentices, right?” Lightpaw asked. “I want you to eat the vole I caught!” Martenpaw glanced back at Hailbranch. The older molly nodded.

“I’d love to!” Martenpaw chuckled. She laid down and started eating the vole.

“Can we share something, Dad?” Honeypaw asked. “I’m starving!”

“You need to task your mentors if you can eat yet,” Ashwhisker purred.

“That took much longer than it needed to,” someone grumbled from the camp entrance. Charpatch, Goldenshade, and Gooseleg trotted into camp.

“We can hardly fault young Bumblepaw,” Gooseleg chuckled. “Countless apprentices get excited around the border.”

“He didn’t mean to cross, and that’s all that matters,” Goldenshade added. 

“Why don’t you two tell Martenpaw how your tour of the territory went?” Ashwhisker suggested. “I’ll be back.” The apprentices didn’t reject the idea. They plopped down, grooming their sore paws, and stared describing their day. Ashwhisker leapt to his mate’s side.

“Hello,” Goldenshade chirped, touching Ashwhisker’s nose. “How are our daughters doing?”

“Could I talk to you alone?” Ashwhisker asked. He glanced around the camp. Sleettuft and Otterpaw recited parts of the code to one another while Grebeshine greeted her mate Loudstep.

“Of course,” Goldenshade said. “Gooseleg, Charpatch, you two can give the patrol report to Rippedpool, right?”

“Go on ahead,” Charpatch sighed. Ashwhisker flicked his tail to a small area by the holy den. If Ashwhisker and Goldenshade squeezed, they could slip through a gap in the rocks to a tiny little den, just big enough for two cats.

“It’s so wonderful to go back out on patrol,” Goldenshade sighed, stretching as she entered the private den. “The nursery was getting cramped.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” Ashwhisker stammered, tucking his paws under him in a loaf shape. Goldenshade laid beside him, making strong eye contact.

“Anxious again?” Goldenshade muttered, running her tail up and down his back.

“Sleettuft wants to manipulate Honeypaw and Lightpaw into becoming story-keepers,” Ashwhisker stuttered. Goldenshade’s neck fluffed up and her ears flattened.

“That flea-ridden little mouse-heart!” Goldenshade spat, clawing the ground. “I told him to stay away from our kits. I can’t believe he said that!”

“He didn’t know I was listening,” Ashwhisker explained. “He asked Otterpaw and Grebeshine to help him convince our kits they should be story-keepers. He had this insane fantasy of story-keepers dying out in CliffClan just because they don’t follow in my pawsteps.”  
“If anything, they’re following in your pawsteps by becoming warriors,” Goldenshade grumbled, standing and pacing. “He forced you into this role, he really thinks forcing them will work better? I need to set him straight.”

“It won’t do any good,” Ashwhisker stuttered, shaking his head. “You’d just make him mad.”

“Then I’ll tell Rippedpool he’s meddling with our family affairs,” Goldenshade huffed.

“Nothing he’s doing is against the code,” Ashwhisker sighed. “He’s allowed his opinion. We can’t keep him from Honeypaw and Lightpaw, either. They are clanmates.”

“When they were born, you made a promise that no one would decide their future for them,” Goldenshade grunted, waving a paw at the den entrance. “He will trick and threaten and humiliate them until they conform to his demands unless we do something about it.”

“I wanted your opinion on that,” Ashwhisker groaned, “but the solution can’t be confrontational. Goldenshade, I… I can’t stand up to him like you can.” Ashwhisker dropped his head. “I still love my dad, even if he’s so traditional.”

“I want to give our kits the best chance at a happy life,” Goldenshade huffed, sitting. “That means stopping Sleettuft’s tricks at every turn. If he even thinks of our kits, I want to be there to remind them they have nothing to prove.”

“I shouldn’t have had kits,” Ashwhisker muttered, a paw on his head. “I put this on them.”

“Never put Sleettuft’s actions on your shoulders,” Goldenshade snapped. “You’re the most supportive father any cat could wish for.” Goldenshade laid in front of her mate and touched her nose to his. “I wouldn’t trade our life for anything.”

“I want to give them the life I didn’t have,” Ashwhisker sighed.

“Then let’s do that,” Goldenshade declared. She pressed her forehead against Ashwhisker’s forehead.

“Yeah,” Ashwhisker whispered, breathing in his mate’s sweet scent. “Let’s do that.”


End file.
